


practice makes perfect

by Tumbelina



Category: Castle (TV) RPF
Genre: F/M, I am terrible, Nathan/Stana, RPF, Still, shot too soon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 12:42:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7684927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tumbelina/pseuds/Tumbelina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by a photo from the end of episode 5x22, Still.</p>
            </blockquote>





	practice makes perfect

**Author's Note:**

> There's a photo of the kiss from the end of "Still" that, accurately or not, looks like Nathan has an erection. I kind of took that and just ran with it.
> 
> This is fiction. It is not real, and it is not meant to be real.

Stana’s fed up with this.

It’s season five and their characters are  _ finally _ in bed, and she was actually looking forward to the chance to play to the fans.  But Nathan is being  _ Nathan _ about it.  

She’s getting fucking irritated with his misguided chivalry, or honor, or whatever it is that keeps him from really getting into these scenes.  He keeps doing this.  He keeps holding back.  Tense body, closed mouth, hands that never quite go where they should.  

When they filmed that scene in bed, at the end of the Hamptons episode, she’d thought this would finally work - lingerie, candles, straddling his hips.  And she did feel him, somewhat, a subtle pressure between her legs that got firmer with each take.  It happens more often for actors than people think.  But he still held back, still didn’t commit.  He kept rolling her beside him in some awkward nearly-romantic move that just didn’t  _ work _ and honestly, for two lovers who’d spent a weekend unable to just strip down and fuck properly, it’s practically embarrassing that this lukewarm lips-only kiss is the way they leave the camera.

And it’s stupid.  It’s stupid because they’ve already been naked.

* * *

It happened once, a few nights after they finished filming the pilot.  No one knew if the show would get picked up, and when he called her up out of nowhere and asked her to come over for dinner, she didn’t say no.  He was a good cook.  He had good wine.  They got a little drunk.  She got a little handsy.  He stuck his tongue down her throat and she stuck her hands in his pants.  And all that tension they’d been carefully nurturing - for the cameras, of course - just sort of spilled over into a flurry of clothes hitting the floor and murmured cursing and kissing and biting.

But apparently he’d had a little too much.  Or a lot.  Because he couldn’t quite...last.

She doesn’t know how he ever managed to get that particular mess out of his couch cushions.  

Being the gentleman he is, he finished her with his hands, and it wasn’t... _ bad _ (he has big hands, and long, long fingers, and he knows exactly how to use them) but he was embarrassed, and she didn’t spend the night, and they never, ever talked about it again.

Though the day she looked at the script and saw the line  _ Shot too soon _ , she almost choked.

But she went back to her world of opera and literature and guys in scarves and tight jeans, and he went back to his personal haven of comic books and video games and the show he’ll always love more than this one.  And in public they teased the fans with a  _ will-they-won’t-they _ vibe, never letting on that the right answer was  _ they tried but it didn’t work. _

* * *

She spends most of the season putting up with his half-assed version of romance (seriously, does he even know how sex works?) but apart from those sweet moments he’s so good at, the sexual chemistry just isn’t working for her.  She knows he’s not as comfortable as she is with major or even partial nudity (he’s definitely gained weight, though more recently he’s been looking better and better), but it’s not like they have to get naked to actually  _ pretend _ .

And then they’re filming  _ Still _ and at first she thinks it’s going well.  The bed scene in the first act ends up cute, which is what it was meant to be; the bulk of the episode, apart from the flashbacks, has a delicious tension of not being able to touch, which she thinks will work well setting them up for the kiss flashback and actual new filmed kiss at the end.  

But  _ Action _ is called and Castle disappears.  Instead it’s Nathan again, awkward, unnecessarily considerate Nathan who won’t let his lower body touch hers.  His mouth is closed and his hands just freeze and it’s exactly what she’s gotten sick of.

They do a few more takes and it doesn’t get any better.  Worse, if anything.  

Stana finally just loses patience.  Screw it.  He can yell at her later.   _ She’s _ going to do her damn job.  She gets one hand on the back of his neck and presses her body into his, draping herself against him before he can pull away.

But -  _ oh _ .

Oh.

The firm bulge pressing into her is unmistakable.  And it’s  _ big _ .  Big and hot and her mouth goes dry.  

She hears someone yell  _ Cut _ and lets go of him like she was burned.  His eyes are wide.  He knows she felt him.

Is this why he’s been pulling away all season?

* * *

By the time they get the final take and the director calls the wrap, Nathan’s completely hard and she’s wet.

He walks away abruptly, heading straight back for his trailer.  She hears a few murmurs, but overall, his - situation - seems to have passed more or less unnoticed.

She should go back to her own trailer.

She goes to his.

She walks in without knocking, because she’s pretty sure he’d tell her to go away.

He’s turned away, but when he hears the door open his head snaps up, shock written on his face.  “Stana -”

“Shut up.”

“But - you - ”

“I  _ said _ -”

She grabs him and shuts him up with her mouth, so  _ irritated _ , just anything to make him stop talking.  And if she’d had any doubts they’re gone now - he kisses her back without hesitation, his tongue stroking into her mouth, his sliding down her back, squeezing her ass as she grinds up against him.  His erection is pressed firmly against her, hot and throbbing even through their clothes, and she knows he was going to take care of it himself (while thinking of her) and maybe that’s the one thing she can actually do for him. 

She pushes him down onto the couch, undoes his belt easily, and tugs down his zipper.  He’s staring at her, wide-eyed, fists clenched like he’s not sure it’s really happening.  When she settles between his legs and reaches inside his underwear and finally pulls him free, he lets out a shuddering groan.  Her mouth goes dry.  Because it’s been a long, long time.  She’d almost forgotten just...how  _ big _ he is.  Big.  Thick.  His dick is hot in her palm, already engorged.  

He’s choking out her name when she spits into her palms and wraps her lips around the head of his cock.  

Stana watches him through her lashes as she slowly presses down.  His face is contorted, his eyes screwed shut.  His hands are balled in fists, digging into his knees, like he’s afraid to look at her or even acknowledge what she’s doing to him.

He’s still thinking of last time.  It’s no different, even now.  He’s enduring it.  She needs it to be different.  She wants him to be able to look at her.  

And if she’s going to suck him off, he should at least enjoy it.

“Nathan,” she whispers.  “Nathan.  Just let go.”

His eyes flutter open, hazy, but he finally meets her gaze.  He’s breathing hard, his whole body tense and strained under her, and just when it’s getting uncomfortable -

He touches her face.  It’s gentle.  It’s too gentle for the fact that her mouth was just on his dick.  But he brushes back a strand of hair that’s escaped her ponytail, his fingers tender against her cheek, and there’s something new in his face.  Something - she’s seen before.  Onscreen.

He’s looking at her like Castle looks at Beckett and she doesn’t know what to make of it.

She takes a deep breath and runs her tongue over him again from base to tip, swirling, teasing the sensitive spot just under the head.  He lets out a groan, his hands coming to her hair, tangling the smooth strands.  

She dips her head and presses down again, slowly, until she’s fighting back a gag and she feels his head against the back of her throat.  His hips are jerking against her, a stream of  _ fuck fuck fuck _ escaping his mouth, and she sucks and sucks, twisting her fist, and somewhere in her mind she’s wondering why he’s reacting like he’s never gotten a blowjob before.

It’s not long before he tugs sharply at her hair, choking out her name, and she knows he’s close, trying to be a gentleman, trying to tell her she doesn’t have to -

She keeps going anyway, sucking his dick to the back of her throat again, sucking harder and harder until finally he lets out a hoarse grunt and comes, spurting down her throat.  

He’s slumped back on his couch when she wipes her mouth on the back of her hand and sits back on her heels.  

It’s just so  _ different _ , so unlike that first night when his mortification was written across his face.  She’d wanted to say so many things,  _ it’s okay _ ,  _ it’s not the end of the world _ ,  _ we can try again _ , but she’d run out instead, and they just never, ever talked about it.  Now he’s watching her with a stunned expression, his whole face slack, his eyes hazy and confused and  _ sated _ .

And he’s tugging her up to his mouth and kissing her, long and thorough and deliberate and he’s such a  _ good _ kisser, exacting, methodical, and unlike those stupid television kisses he’s completely engaged now, his hands cupping her face, his tongue stroking in her mouth like he’s memorizing her.  

She sinks into him, her knees bracketing his waist, and as willing as she is to quick tug her panties aside and find out just how good he really is - she’s known exactly how big for a few years now - he’s, well,  _ spent _ , at least for the moment.  But she doesn’t mind, because she’s grinding into his thigh while he sucks on her tongue and oh  _ fuck _ this is absolutely doing it for her -

She’s rocking against the hard line of his thigh, wedged so tight between her legs, the pressure building in delicious waves with every roll of her hips, and she’s almost there, almost -

Just as she think she’s close, he tugs her off his lap.  And she’s so worked up it takes her a moment to realize he’s pushed her down, onto her back.  He’s tugging her shirt over her head.  Slipping a hand behind her to deftly unfasten her bra.  Working her jeans down over her hips and dropping them on the floor.  

“ _ Nathan _ -”

He layers a rich, heady kiss on her lips and trails down her throat, nipping slowly at her skin.  He licks the column of her throat as she pants under him, her whole body burning, shaking because it’s slow, delicious torture, waiting as his mouth paints a careful line over her naked skin.  He’s exploring, re-learning, because it’s been so long since that first disastrous night.  But  _ this _ is so new, this confident, sexually self-possessed man who’s patiently dragging these long, high-pitched noises out of her throat.

Stana would be embarrassed at how worked up he’s gotten her, but she has no brain power left to care.  He tugs at one nipple with his teeth, lightly pinching the other, and she gasps, her hands fisting in his hair, her hips jerking against him because they’ve spent so much time pretending to be people regularly fucking each other senseless and she’d already so wet she can’t stand it.

He presses an oddly tender kiss to the pale skin of her inner thigh, and she’s holding her breath, gripping the back of the sofa, biting her lip to keep quiet, and just when she’s about to open her mouth and beg, his mouth is between her legs and everything just goes  _ white _ .

It all gets kind of blurry, because his tongue is teasing at her clit and his stubble is scraping her thighs and then he slides two fingers inside her and  _ curls _ them and she’s writhing under him and choking and pleading and just  _ fuck _ -

“Nathan - Nath -  _ fuck _ , oh  _ fuck _ -”

Her whole body seizes up and she breaks apart, her back arching as she shudders to a climax under his fingers and tongue.  He’s good at this; he works her through it, till the last shivers of her orgasm shiver up her spine and she’s lying back, limp and sweaty and trembling.  

Her eyes are pricking, her throat tight, and this is all just so far beyond fucked up, she doesn’t know what to do.

Because she’s been dating attractive, hipster assholes for so long.  And Nathan is infuriating, and childish, and nerdy, but he  _ cares _ and he’s this goofy, genuine guy and it’s been a long time since she’s been with someone she just  _ knows _ .

“You okay?”

She blinks.  Nathan’s watching her, hesitation across his face - and damn it to fuck, he’s just so handsome - and her eyes are blurry and he can clearly tell.

“Yeah.”

“I, uh - ”

_ That’s  _ the Nathan she’s used to  The awkward guy.  The foot in mouth.  Well-meaning.  Inelegant.  

She clears her throat.  “I should, uh.  Get dressed.”

He moves to turn around, give her some privacy, and she catches his arm.  “Nathan.  A little late for that.”

To his credit, he actually blushes.  

She tugs her costume back on - oh jeez, it’s actually her costume, she hadn’t even changed clothes yet - and her mind races.  She’d been so convinced nothing else would ever happen.  It’s just been so awkward between them.

He’s utterly wrong for her.  He is.  She knows it.  But there’s something about him, about that bizarre, ridiculous little car he loves zipping around, crowing over its amazing mileage.  

It’s not ATP.  But it’s his way of doing the same thing.

Stana takes a deep breath and meets his eyes again, trying not to think about the fact that Nathan is looking at her with something far too real in his eyes.

“You, um, want to go get some dinner?”   _ And then fuck it out again. Because I don’t know how else to say it. _

His face softens, his eyes crinkling at the edges the way they do, and her breath gets shallow.  Damn.   _ Damn _ .

* * *

As they walk out of the studio together, he leans over and whisper in her ear.  

“Definitely better the second time.”

 


End file.
